"So was I, so we're even there. We'll have to pool our chances, I guess. Any
gate down that way--or haven't you followed the fence?"

"I followed it for miles and miles--it seemed. It must be some big field of
the Cross L; but they have so very many big fields!"

"And you couldn't give a rough guess at how far it is to the Cross
L?"--insinuatingly.

He could vaguely see her shake of head. "Ordinarily it should be about six
miles beyond Rodway's, where I board. But I haven't the haziest idea of
where Rodway's place is, you see; so that won't help you much. I'm all at
sea in this snow." Her voice was rueful.

"Well, if you came up the fence, there's no use going back that way; and
there's sure nothing made by going away from it.--that's the way I came. Why
not go on the way you're headed?"

"We might as well, I suppose," she assented; and Rowdy turned and rode by
her side, grateful for the plurality of the pronoun which tacitly included
him in her wanderings, and meditating many things. For one, he wondered if
she were as nice a girl as her voice sounded. He could not see much of her
face, because it was muffled in a white silk scarf. Only her eyes showed,
and they were dark and bright.

When he awoke to the fact that the wind, grown colder, beat upon her
cruelly, he dropped behind a pace and took the windy side, that he might
shield her with his body. But if she observed the action she gave no sign;
her face was turned from him and the wind, and she rode without speaking.
After long plodding, the line of posts turned unexpectedly a right angle,